


So Dies the Hero

by glorious_anthem



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Crit is the most rude, Heroes and Villains, Logan is a treasure, M/M, Patton is a good Dad, Remus being nasty, Superpowers, Sympathetic Deceit, Virgil is rude, deceit is kind of rude, lace is a good snake, roman and remy are here but not mentioned sorry babes, superhero au, unsympathetic dark sides, “Heroes” and vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_anthem/pseuds/glorious_anthem
Summary: Heroes are supposed to help people. So why does being one feel so awful?
Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	So Dies the Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friend!! Here’s your gift, I really hope you enjoy it!! Happy holidays! 
> 
> Warnings: Death mentions, manipulation and general rudeness, Remus being disgusting, cursing, mildly detailed description of a hypothetical death, severe self-deprication, violence

Sometimes Darius wondered if he was actually a good person. To be honest, he wondered about it a lot. Pretty much all the time. He’d settled for a no, he wasn’t, because how could he be when he let people get hurt and killed and made messes and screwed up and didn’t do anything to fix it- 

“Hey, Double D! Get to the guy, my distraction won’t hold up forever!” The harsh, raspy voice of The Duke tore through his thoughts, making him gasp and stumble a little. Remus’s nose was wrinkled in concentration, eyes locked with the shooter. The team of heroes had been called out to deal with the mess caused by the guy, in a school no less. 

“Of course, it would be my pleasure,” he drawled smoothly, pretending he wasn’t startled by the noise. He ambled along at a slow, leisurely pace, ignoring his racing heart and shallow lungs, trying desperately to maintain an aura of smug confidence. He stopped directly in front of the shooter, smirking slightly, and opened his mouth to speak. “I do wish-“

_“Deceit!”_ a voice shouted, shrill and desperate and afraid. He blinked, and suddenly he was against the wall and Slo-Mo was against him and everything hurt.

“What the hell?” he hissed, gasping in pain. 

“He was going to shoot you, asshole.” Slo-Mo was wide-eyed and visibly shaken, pulling back and dusting his suit off as he copied Deceit’s signature tactic of pretending not to care. His dark hair was matted to the barely lighter skin of his face and he was panting desperately, though trying to play it off by running his shaking fingers through his hair and using his free hand to push his tinted goggles up in the process. 

“You’re over-exerting yourself, Nate.” He frowned. 

The hero’s face twisted in defense. “Yeah, and why do you fucking care?” 

Something about the sharp tone of his voice made Darius want to throw himself right into the line of fire again. It felt like someone had dropped a football dipped in cement in his stomach and was now digging around trying to get it back out. He swallowed the lump in his throat and his humiliation, lifting an eyebrow. “I do apologize, I never meant to give off that impression,” he hummed, voice dripping with silk and venom. 

“ ‘s what I thought.” Nate yanked his goggles back down and stalked off, shoulders hunched. Deceit scoffed and shook his head, but the sting was still there. 

The fight continued. Remus had lost his control over the man with the gun, causing him to open fire again. Deceit had to keep trying to get close to him. 

Minutes passed, or maybe seconds, but they seemed to be losing.The Critic was nowhere to be seen. Deceit swallowed and peeled himself off of where he’d been tossed to the floor, cupping his hands around his mouth. “I do wish you would keep the gun!” he shouted, and immediately the weapon was dropped. 

“Cut his head off, Crit!” Remus squealed as their leader appeared from seemingly nowhere. The Critic had a bad habit of doing that, just sort of… appearing. It was a common thing among the group, really, especially for-

“Oh hell no, sweetie. Do you know how much blood that would spill?” The masked man lifted an eyebrow at Remus, who was spinning his morningstar like a very dangerous baton and bouncing on his toes. His face was split with a too-wide grin that Deceit wanted to slap right off, along with that stupid, _stupid_ mustache. 

“No, sir,” he purred disgustingly, winking and puffing his chest out. “Why don’t you _show me?”_ Darius shuddered and Nate made a face, but Crit seemed entirely undeterred, apparently used to it.

“Not now, Duke. We would want to… sully our good name. That would be dreadful, now wouldn’t it?” The leader inspected his nails and Deceit was personally threatened by his composure. It wasn’t fair.

“I think we’re already sully enough, _papi.”_ This time the line was paired with a growl, and Deceit felt himself puke in his mouth a little. He was pretty sure that wasn’t even the correct way to use the word.

“Remus, do shut up. There are children here.” To his credit, The Duke snapped his mouth shut and was quiet for a whole seventeen seconds.

Something purple flashed in the corner of Deceit’s vision and he stiffened. He tried desperately to keep his grip on reality and not look, but he did anyway, despite already knowing who it was leading the kids to safety. Renowned hero-turned-vigilante, Tempest. _Virgil._

“Deceit! We’re leaving this dump.” The Critic waved for him, and he approached obediently, although his eyes were narrow.

“But-“

“Butts are for assholes, dear.”

“Sir, the children-“

“Are in perfectly good hands, are they not?” He halted to look Darius directly in the eyes, making the younger hero’s legs shake a little. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Excellent. Then I trust you have no further qualms?” He tilted his head and quirked a brow, challenging, daring him to press it further.

Darius shook his head slightly. “No, sir…”

“Good. Close your mouth more often, it’s a good look on you.” He was already power walking majestically away, and Deceit heard a not at all subtle ‘ooo’ from Slo-Mo and The Duke. He wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor and drown choking on earth. Nevertheless, Virgil would not leave his mind.

When they returned to the base for celebratory takeout? _Virgil._ When Remus wouldn’t stop talking everyone’s ear off in rapid Spanish? _Virgil._ When he finally returned back to his own apartment to get some rest? _Virgil, Virgil, Virgil._

The violet-clad vigilante had run away months ago. Everyone else was fine with pretending he’d never been there in the first place, but Darius was far from it. They acted like nothing had changed, like everything was fine and dandy and wonderful, like his only- his friend hadn’t betrayed them, hadn’t left for them. The vigilantes, or HILT as they were calling themselves, were their sworn enemies who thought they were better than them. The clean up crew. 

Deceit and his team were the heroes. Of course they were, everybody said so. Lately, though, that hadn’t seemed entirely true. It felt wrong, like he was lying to himself, again. He was Deceit, he lied to himself all the time. _I am a good person. I don’t need them. I can’t possibly mess up boxed mac-n-cheese again. I’m a hero._ What kind of hero left people, _victims,_ behind? What kind of hero left messes behind for others to clean up? What kind of hero snapped at his best and only friend and hurt him so badly that he felt the only answer and way to be free was to run away and leave him behind and abandon him and what kind of hero just let that happen? 

Darius Lyre was not a good person at all, he realized. He stared at himself in the mirror, hating, hating, hating. He made up his mind. The bare minimum went into a suitcase. Three numbers vanished from his contacts, he changed his own number, Lace the corn snake was placed in her tank on top of the suitcase. He left no note, vanished late into the night. Virgil wouldn’t want to see him again, Hilt wouldn’t take him anyway, he was the enemy, after all. Instead, Darius went to the streets. He wandered. 

The sun rose and set. He saw nothing of his old teammates except in his dreams-- nightmares-- when he dared stop to sleep. Head spinning, feet pounding a steady rhythm his heart followed, he realized his snake was more well-fed than he was. He questioned if Virgil hated him still. Darius wandered.

The sun rose and set many more times. He ate where he could find food and slept in the smallest nooks he could fit into. He still saw no sign of anyone he knew. He could live like this. Darius wandered.

Still the sun rose and set, almost the only constant in his life. It scorched his skin and all he could do was use aloe, a gift from a kind older woman who insisted that he looked “Just like my dear grandson!” His heart twisted at that and he thanked her many times. She’d given him money as well; he spent it on food for Lace. He contemplated what dead mice tasted like. He thought about Virgil. Did he hate him? Would he care if he died? Would he want to see him again? Darius wondered.

Soon his vision spun and all his thoughts were occupied with _survive, survive, Virgil, survive._ Too much effort went into putting one foot in front of another and his head pounded, hands shaking. It was warm. Too warm. He looked for shade and found it beside a building facing the sun. Ducking behind it, Darius leaned against the wall heavily to try and recover a little. It didn’t get better. His vision turned white, then black, he felt the handle of his suitcase leaving his hand, then he was on the concrete and his head throbbed worse than ever. Snakes were supposed to like heat, but Deceit was not a snake, so he was less fortunate. He closed his eyes. Perhaps he would just rest, his eyes and his feet were so sore. _Just for a moment,_ he promised himself. _Only a moment and then I’ll get back up._

•*•

_missing in oblivion  
i guess i forgot to shut the door  
darkness beckons with a string around my throat  
i remember  
time was slow back when i knew serenity  
now it rushes past  
quick like my thoughts  
wouldn’t it be something  
to be happy more than somber  
i guess i’ll never know what song you would have written  
your music faded long ago  
the final notes echo in my head for eternity  
a merciless symphony that forbids me to forget_

•*•

It was more than a moment. Too long later, someone was shaking his shoulder. Darius barely managed to peel his eyes open, expecting to see an angry or confused or sheepish employee. Instead, he was met with a masked face suited in dark blue.

“Apologies for the abrupt awakening Mx., but it is getting rather late. This particular area of the town is even more unsafe in the dark. I implore you to come with me to find somewhere else to spend the night.”

“Y’re helpin’ me?” Darius slurred, tongue thick and dry in his mouth. His chest was empty and he felt close to dry heaving, vision still spinning. Was this person even actually here?

“I am. And I assure you that I am physically present, neither hallucinated nor holographically projected nor any other possible method of faking one’s existence.” Their voice was smooth and rich and they were so tall. Just the sight of them, not even considering their face, was enough to make Darius even weaker. A large hand was held out to him. “Shall we, Mx. Lyre?” 

_Wait. Something’s wrong here. But… what? ‘S not them, it’s- oh._ “He,” Darius croaked, wincing at the sound that came from his throat. It was both physically and emotionally humiliating. He took the hand anyway and was hauled to his feet. He stumbled and staggered, his vision flashed again, and he barely registered the firm grip on his shoulder. 

“Mr. Lyre, do I have your permission to lift you and carry you?”

He made a noise of confirmation, really too out of it to do anything. “Wh’re?” Then his feet were swept out from under him and he was held against the stranger’s chest and _oh no they were hot._

“A base where I currently reside with a small number of my peers,” came the fading response. Darius just nodded slightly and closed his eyes again, almost immediately passing out. 

The last he heard was a small, mildly concerned, “Darius?”

•*•

_often i return to September  
sun-kissed skin glossy with sweat  
how i wish to stop that day and keep it frozen for a while  
just to see  
just to embrace  
just to stay  
gunshots shatter time  
glass shards tumble to the earth  
dirt stained red  
pain is unforgivable if you aren’t willing to try  
and i?  
i prefer revenge_

•*•

Darius was just coming to when he heard it. A whisper, soft and earnest, from someone nearby. The echo hinted that he was inside, but where, and why?

“I would die for you,” the voice stage-whispered. His eyes shot open. He was in a room, like a bedroom, Lace’s tank was in the corner, and she wasn’t in it. Instead she was in the hands of a stranger who held her and cooed at her softly as they rocked in a chair. “You’re a cutie, you’re just the sweetest little spaghetti aren’t you? Yes you are, good girl, so pretty. Such a pretty lady, hi pretty! Oh, look at your little tongue! How do I smell, sweetie?” Darius laid there, stunned into silence for a long while. Eventually he cleared his throat and they looked up, eyes wide. He froze, but then they smiled in a way that was warm and soft and felt like the sun, eyes crinkling a little and shimmering with relief. It was quite a bit overwhelming how much emotion this person wore on their face. “You’re awake!” 

He looked away. “...yep.”

They were seated at the edge of the bed in moments—he was in a bed, he hadn’t been in one in forever, it felt so good—staring at him with concern. “You passed out from dehydration. How much do you remember?”

“I remember leaving. And someone in a mask, was—that wasn’t you. Who was that?” He frowned. “Who are you? Where the hell am I?” 

“Woah, woah, slow down there, kiddo!” The person held their hands up in surrender, laughing a little. “Let’s start over, I’ll fill you in in just a moment. My name is Patton, he/him! And you are?” 

He swallowed. “Darius. Same.”

“Good! That was helpful, thank you so much!” The man seemed a little overly thrilled at the response. 

“Thank… you?” He started to sit up. 

“Be careful, you were really dehydrated. I’ll have someone bring you some water. Right now you’re at our base.”

“Base? Base for what? Is it secret? Does anyone know I’m here?” His chest constricted and his mouth was still dry. Every time he spoke it was like someone was raking barbed wire down his throat and it _hurt._ He swallowed. 

“You don’t have to talk so much if it hurts. I promise you’re safe, and we can talk over the details more when you feel better,” Patton assured. Something familiar about him did make Darius feel safe and secure and protected. He almost wanted to sleep. Scratch that, he really wanted to sleep, every part of him screamed with exhaustion and strain, but it could be a trap and unsafe and someone could be there to hurt him, or--when did he close his eyes? 

“Darius? Honey, can you hear me?” He jumped a little.

“Y... yeah, I hear you, sorry.” He rubbed his eyes and opened them, then lowered his hand to massage his throat as well, wincing.

“Why don’t you talk a little less for now?” Patton urged gently. “Just nod or shake your head, things like that.” 

He nodded slowly, raking his fingers through his hair. The man across from him held out Lace, and he took her almost immediately. She curled around his wrist like a large, clumsily made bracelet. 

“Good!”

“Hey, Pat, I got the- what the fuck?” Darius’ head shot up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash as he stared at the man in the doorway. Painfully familiar purple hair and dark eyes, with a hulking figure behind them. Virgil. Wait, if Virgil was here, then he was-

“Hilt,” he whispered, just as Virgil shoved the tray into his companion’s hands and stormed forward. Darius refused to flinch, pretending his hands weren’t shaking. 

“What are you doing here, you son of a-“

“Virgil!” Patton scolded lightly. “That’s no way to treat our guest, be nice!”

“I’m nice to people who deserve it,” Virgil sneered and, _ow,_ that stung. “Why is he here?” 

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know, Judy Moody?”

“Of course I would, that’s why I asked. Pat, do you have any idea-“

“Virgil, please,” Deceit interrupted, less smug and more desperate.

The vigilante flipped him off. “Patton, you have to listen, he’s-“

“I want you to tell him who I am,” Darius suddenly blurted, words painful in throat, burning worse than just the dry scratching of dehydration. Virgil’s mouth snapped shut and Patton stiffened. His expression twisted with worry. A gasp came from Virgil’s companion.

“I know who he is, Vee,” Patton soothed. 

That made Darius go rigid. “Wait, you _know?_ And you’re still helping me?”

“Of course we are, silly, you need help!”

“But I- we’re enemies, and I literally just… I don’t understand…”

“Relax, don’t hurt your throat,” he told him. “Can Virgil still speak?” 

“He can,” Virgil spat, shooting Darius a look that, could looks kill, would have dismembered him, harvested his organs, cremated him, brewed his ashes into coffee, and downed it in one gulp. “And he has many concerns about this.”

“We can talk about it, then. But first, Darius, would you like to stay here?” Patton looked back at him, eyes soft and sincere and so kind it almost made him want to throw up.

“Stay?” he croaked. “For- for how long?” 

“Well, as long as you’d like!” The older man grinned. “I’d be happy to have you here, especially while you’re recovering.” 

“I… for now, I suppose…” Darius nodded slowly.

“Excellent!” Patton clapped and stood. “Virgil, come with me. What has you so worked up? What’s going on?”

As the two voices and pairs of footsteps faded, he became more aware of the fourth person who had been in the room, but was now the second. They were tall and familiar, and their face was open and glowing with curiosity. 

“Mr. Lyre,” they began, and suddenly it all came rushing back.

“That was _you?!”_ he shouted, startled, grabbing his throat as it split with pain. How could his savior have been so tall and gentle and stomach-twistingly gorgeous?

“Indeed. I suggest you refrain from excessive speech for the sake of your throat.” He swallowed and nodded, no longer trusting himself to speak eloquently anyway. “In the moment, the situation required immediate action, and I was barbarically forced to put aside formalities and could not introduce myself. If I may, I’d like to make up for that now. My name is Logan Sagong. He/him, if you will. And yourself?” Logan lifted an eyebrow and Deceit tried desperately not to melt in on himself.

“You… said my name.”

“Ah, yes, I did, didn’t I?” The man looked mildly amused. “I had forgotten. You see, I have access to information about people, regardless of either of our consent. Knowing someone’s name without them giving it to you, however, has proven to raise defense levels and lessen the chance of trust, therefore I try not to use it so much.”

“What can you see?” he asked, picking his words carefully. 

“At the moment, your heart rate and breathing are nearly normal. Slightly raised, but, given your current situation, that is a reasonable expectation.” Logan nodded slightly, as if to affirm his own statement.

Darius rubbed his eyes. “That’s… different.”

“But not nearly like yours. ‘Reverse psychology, it is listed as. Is that what you did to Virgil a moment ago?”

Every nerve in his body told him to answer a simple ‘no,’ or a ‘who’s to say’ or a ‘who’s Virgil?’ However, his mind moved too fast and he nodded before he could say anything. 

“Fascinating. So you make people do what you wish by telling them to do the opposite…” Logan sat on the bed, studying the empty air around Darius. Well, perhaps the air wasn’t empty to him.

“Yeah.” He scooted back, blinking hard. 

“Oh, my apologies. I had no intention of overstepping any boundaries.” Logan also moved away, making Darius’ heart sink a little.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just- I’m not sure what you want with me…” He winced, swallowing.

“There is nothing we want with or from you, we are only here to help. Patton was right, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like after you recover.” The vigilante reached for the tray that had been placed on a side table to offer him a glass of water. “Here, drink. And rest as well, please, you frightened us all.” 

“I did?” he mumbled, taking the glass and sipping from it slowly. The water tasted dry and bitter for some reason. He watched as Logan’s face darkened a little and his eyes turned to the floor.

“Well, _me,”_ he corrected, not sounding nearly as put-together as he seemed to be. “You frightened me.”

Darius’s face warmed and he stared into the glass instead. “Oh.” It was quiet for longer than he cared to know, both him and Logan unsure of what to say and simply settling for nothing at all. Finally, Logan was gracious enough to break the tension.

“Would you like me to go and let you rest? You appear to be drained.”

Darius nodded slowly. “I’ll rest, but… you don’t have to go. Not for long, anyway.” Please stay please stay please stay-

“Very well. Get some sleep, I’m sure Patton will have made something for you to eat by the time you wake up.” Logan’s expression turned soft and fond and half-amused, and Darius again found himself wanting to melt into a puddle and cry because it was so cute.

“Thank you, Logan,” he managed smoothly, laying back. 

“Certainly. You are welcome here as long as you wish to be here.” A hand rested on top of his, and Logan was looking at the floor again.

They kept saying that, but… _what about Virgil?_ he wondered quietly. _What would he do to me?_ “I’ll… think about it.”

“Good. Now rest,” he murmured, and Darius couldn’t help but comply. His head still spun with worries and anxieties and possibilities, but for the moment, he was here. In this moment, he was safe. Surely Logan wouldn’t let anything happen. If he did, well… it couldn’t be worse than it had been before.


End file.
